


生而为人; to be human

by fefedove



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but with less comfort and more hurt oops, i know too much about this fiasco, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:46:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25277140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fefedove/pseuds/fefedove
Summary: It sucks to be Xiao Zhan’s ex.It hurts a different way to see him be crucified by the Internet.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan
Comments: 60
Kudos: 400
Collections: BJYX Prompt Fest 2020





	生而为人; to be human

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [bjyx_fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjyx_fest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo break up. The aftermath of 227 brings them back together. 
> 
> Angst is welcomed (given the premise I think it's unavoidable lol), and so is lots of introspection about fame, being a celebrity, etc. It's up to you how and when they break up but no third party involved please. Other real life characters and OCs are ok. 
> 
> Also, the stuff about 227 doesn't have to be very detailed. I think most? of us know the gist of it at this point. I've vaguely followed the whole thing up to now and a LOT has happened since then. You don't have to incorporate all of that into the fic but if you want to then feel free. 
> 
> Happy ending or an open ending on a hopeful note please. :)
> 
> Rating: any 
> 
> Do not want: infidelity, self-harm/suicide (thoughts are ok but nothing too dark pls), character death, rape/non-con/dub-con, hard kinks, side pairs involving Xiao Zhan or Wang Yibo, use of "Sean Xiao" or "Zhan" 
> 
> Thank you and have fun! :)

**[生而为人](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT2X4GbEd0I) **

我用了一半的青春 来思考做人的道理

行千万里 再别忘了初心

_I don’t think we can make it work anymore_

_We’re both so busy_

_We barely see each other_

Being Xiao Zhan’s ex fucking sucks.

Wang Yibo knows that first-hand.

From ads in the airport to billboards alongside the road to the top trending searches every day on Weibo, Xiao Zhan is. literally. every. where.

And whenever Yibo sees that business-only smile, he’s reminded of the last words the man said to him (through WeChat.)

_You’re young_

_Focus on your career_

_You have your whole future ahead of you_

Those messages were so very Xiao Zhan—proper, polite, and just right.

But they’re also so uncharacteristic of the Xiao Zhan that Yibo knew and loved, because since when did Xiao Zhan talk to him with such careful and measured words?

Yibo just replied with “Ok.”

To be honest, he should’ve expected it after the Weibo Gala night. Or maybe he should’ve seen it coming back when Xiao Zhan said on a show that getting married now would mean the end of his career.

Xiao Zhan has a clear goal and relationships aren’t part of the plan.

He’s sacrificed so much to get to the point that he’s at now and he’s not going to sacrifice it all for something else.

Yibo gets that. He respects that.

The first few days after the breakup weren’t as bad. Flying from city to city reminded him of Xiao Zhan’s excuse for the breakup, but he’s generally busy and exhausted enough to stop from wallowing in misery.

The start of the Spring Festival is a flurry of performances and family activities.

But then the virus gets worse instead of better and everything comes to an anticlimactic halt.

Forced to stay home in self-quarantine like the rest of China, Yibo finally has the time to laze around. He messes around with Legos and such, but most of his time is still spent swiping his phone mindlessly.

Virus statistics and memes take up the entire Weibo hot search rank. Yibo resists the urge to ask Xiao Zhan how he’s doing, if he’s bored. When the stupid game he’s playing requires him to share it with a friend in order to level up, he forces himself not to press Xiao Zhan’s name.

Stops himself from using all these things to attempt and restart something.

Everyone is bored and starting work in the near future is unforeseeable. It’s the best opportunity, but Yibo’s finger always hovers and hesitates above the send button, because…

He has pride, after all.

His stubborn competitiveness usually never applied to Xiao Zhan, but he just couldn’t bring himself to take that step now.

It would be too goddamn awkward.

Gradually, he gets drawn into the fandom side of Weibo (more specifically, his own fandom.) It’s a part of the Internet that he usually doesn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, but stuck at home like this, it’s inevitable.

February 7th, staff tell him that a fan is trending on Weibo and it _must_ be another idol’s team messing with them, trying to break up his fandom. The PR team talks in rapid-fire language in their video call while he goes to the app to see for himself. And all he wonders is _why._

“Thank _god_ that fan is a mature and responsible adult,” Zhou Lan scoffs. “Stopped things from escalating herself so we didn’t have to do anything.”

Sometimes, he doesn’t know why he’s doing this.

When he signed up for dance classes as a 12-year-old, he didn’t know what being an idol meant, what sasaengs were, what antis were. Didn’t know that strangers would wish him death and other strangers would curse others to death in the name of love for him.

“Do you think Xiao Zhan’s team is responsible for this?” one staff wonders.

“No,” Yibo mutters before hanging up.

Valentine’s Day creeps towards him.

Night of February 13th, _bo jun yi xiao_ trends on Weibo. A quick scroll through the tag tells him that Xiao Zhan’s solo fans compiled a hefty list of “facts” to show that Yuehua Ent. tried to sell their “relationship” and promote Yibo. Shipper fans take over and turn the trend into a display of their charity projects, while reminiscing the classic nine-minute bickering clip and having fights with solo fans from both sides.

Non-fans have no clue what's going on and, somehow, “Wang Yibo and Xiao Zhan’s 9-minute sex tape” becomes the running joke of the night.

Yibo lies in bed, curled around a body pillow, mechanically refreshing the tag and skimming the posts. It’s funny, it’s sad, it’s…

He could ask Xiao Zhan what he thought of all this. The man is definitely aware of the fandom’s shenanigans too. They could laugh together over the absurd thought that Yuehua would pay to do something like this for him. They could think back to that summer.

He types up “Zhan-ge” and then stares the blinking cursor.

(Actually, he’s scared he’ll send the message just to get the notification that he’s been deleted from the other party’s contacts.)

When the clock strikes midnight, Yibo goes back to Weibo. _Bo jun yi xiao_ has fallen off the trending list.

He tosses his phone to the side and pulls the covers over his head.

Staying at home is honestly suffocating.

Yibo’s time is punctuated with recordings for Day Day Up, but the days still bleed into one another. Finally, he convinces his parents that he needs to return to Beijing—to record for a charity song, to do things at the company—and he settles into a 2-week quarantine inside his apartment.

Despite the fact that sasaengs know about this address, he still chose to come here. It feels just a bit more like home.

Around that time (the 26th of February), he catches wind of some drama regarding a piece of fanfiction and art. Sitting cross-legged on his sofa with cup noodles nestled on his lap, he swipes his phone (as he has been doing since quarantine started, let’s be real.)

There’s a drawing of Xiao Zhan—more accurately, it’s _Zanzan_ with long, wavy hair and a red dress.

Yibo’s lips quirk up at the image. She’s beautiful. And it’s easy to see why Xiao Zhan’s solo fans would be furious enough to report the fanfic that this art is based off of.

The next night, there’s news that some website was firewalled.

And when he wakes up the morning after that, it’s like all hell broke loose.

He stays in bed, taking in everything the Internet suddenly had to offer about Xiao Zhan, and he’d feel more at ease if he was in a pit full of snakes.

It seems to be a normal scandal at first.

There's an Olay endorsement livestream that night, as usual. Haters flood the comments, but the host forges on. Even the CEO calls in, to vouch for how professional Xiao Zhan is. Some haters seemingly give up after seeing the music video ("Wow, he's too pretty for me to hate") and even take part in the livestream giveaway.

The last thing Yibo remembers before falling asleep fitfully is the joke that Xiao Zhan’s face is the best weapon against haters.

But as February melts into March, things start…going wrong.

Instead of dying down, the heat flares and consumes the Internet, burning Xiao Zhan’s name to ashes. Bit by bit, the words piece together a Xiao Zhan completely unfamiliar to Yibo.

One that is foul-mouthed and curses people out constantly.

One that is a perverted misogynist and calls his friend a whore.

One that is racist and mocks others for their skin tone.

One that is homophobic and has gay friends who don’t dare to come out to him.

One that is gay and wants to fuck his friends.

One that is the mastermind and king of capitalism, using his powers to repress regular netizens.

One that is the lowly slave of capitalism, a despicable mascot that must be brought down to make a statement.

One that is a two-faced liar.

One that deserves to die.

One that is non-human.

Yibo wants to scream that this is not Xiao Zhan. He knows Xiao Zhan and he _knows what kind of person Xiao Zhan is._

Why are the people closest to him keeping silent while these nameless, faceless figures on the Internet are erecting a ghoulish counterfeit statue of him?

They turn the banned website into a martyr of free speech and use 227 to commemorate it. They take the phrase “not a single snowflake is innocent in an avalanche” and proudly claim to be brave snowflakes fighting to bring down the monster.

_WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?_

None of his friends say anything. Even his fans, fearing that they would make things worse, decide to shut up.

Everyone disappears, leaving only Xiao Zhan at the fore.

But then again, Yibo is also keeping silent.

Days have passed, but he hasn’t said anything about this—not online, not to their mutual friends, and definitely not to Xiao Zhan himself.

There are multiple reasons (excuses).

Xiao Zhan may look soft, but he has an ego too and hates coming off weak. Even when there were problems before (minor, in comparison to now), he’d refuse to have anyone help him. Whoever tried would get a long call and Yibo doesn’t want to listen to Xiao Zhan claiming that he’s fine and instead asking Yibo to take care of himself.

(Would he still do this though, considering the situation?)

And Yibo doesn’t want to say anything that can be twisted and fired back as ammunition. Because he can already imagine the disgusting tales that could be spun, the accusations.

But really, he’s scared that anything he does will be completely fucking futile. He doesn’t want to muster the strength to punch the tidal wave only to get drenched and humiliated as the flood continues past him, cackling and destroying everything in its path.

He feels like a coward—small, useless, unable to do anything for the man that he _would_ do everything for.

The people of the Internet demand Xiao Zhan to speak up. How could he let this happen? Doesn’t he know his power? His influence? He caused this mess and now is just hiding behind his fans?

They ridicule him for losing his voice and going mute.

And Wang Yibo isn’t Xiao Zhan, but during those sleepless nights, bodiless voices jeeringly whisper the same things in his ears.

He remembers the last time an attack like this happened to him. Around his birthday last year, he was the target of an onslaught of bashing for eight days and nights because of something completed unrelated to him.

But Xiao Zhan was there—sending a cake and singing for him through a video call at midnight. When he wished to be strong enough to protect people he loved, Xiao Zhan laughed and told him to make a wish for himself.

The birthday before that, Yibo had forced himself through a livestream, trying to ignore the insults perpetually glaring at him on the screen and failing. But that night, he also sat on the rooftop with Xiao Zhan. They were surrounded by crew members yelling in crude language and lugging equipment around, but having Xiao Zhan beside him was enough to make him forget all that shit (even if for just one night.)

Yibo types and deletes and types and deletes, but what he ends up sending is an article saying that Yuehua is spending 300 million RMB to force Xiao Zhan out of the entertainment industry.

_if i really give you 300 mil, would you quit?_

The reply isn’t instant, but it comes just as he decides to recall the message.

_No._

Yibo sends a request for an audio call and the other man accepts it surprisingly.

“You can do so much with 300 million,” Yibo begins without preamble. “Open a bakery, a hot pot restaurant—”

“No. I won’t quit this career without putting up a fight.”

“You quit on us without a fight,” Yibo blurts.

The audible intake of air hovers above the pregnant pause.

Yibo grips his pillow and his knuckles turn white. “I-I mean…”

“I know what you mean.” There’s a chuckle that sounds like a sigh. “I’m fine.”

“Zhan-ge, I…” What was he even trying to say?

“I’m _fine._ ”

Sitting up in bed, Yibo throws his pillow at the wall. “Xiao Zhan, no. Listen, I—I mean, I’m back in Beijing. You never left, right? My quarantine ends today and we’re in the same building, so I can go see you and… I mean, I’ve been eating cup noodles for the past 14 days, so can I come over and you cook for me? Please?”

The absurdity of what he just said makes him crawl back under his covers as if that’ll fix things.

A soft laugh travels to his ears and he exhales.

“Fine.”

He scrambles out of bed while checking his phone. It’s 5 p.m. He’s really lost all sense of time these days.

Speedily washing up, he throws on a mask, runs out of the condo and into the elevator. Then he’s standing before the door with hitched breath. They haven’t met face-to-face in months and now they’re finally meeting _like this_?

Rather than a hug or anything of that sort, Yibo is welcomed in with a spray of disinfectant. The sterile smell clogs up his senses.

Xiao Zhan doesn’t give Yibo the chance to speak or even get a good _look_ at him before turning and heading back to the kitchen. Yibo trades his shoes for those padded slippers, and follows.

“I don’t have much groceries.”

Yibo glances into the fridge. There’s a sense of kenopsia to see it so bare. “I can go down and buy some.”

“It’s enough to make you a meal,” Xiao Zhan says with a wave. “And we’re still on lockdown. You need to register to go outside, don’t you know?”

“Then…can I help?”

Xiao Zhan finally looks at him—just a glance. “You’re still not allowed in my kitchen. Get out.”

Yibo slinks out of the kitchen. From his seat in the living area, he studies Xiao Zhan from behind. Did he get thinner? He’s almost swallowed by that baby blue sweater. Are his shoulders even narrower now?

To be honest, he can’t really remember. Did Xiao Zhan always look so small?

Haggard…if that’s the right word. Is it possible for someone to look so haggard, frail, yet lovely?

His haters say he’s a demon—enemy of freedom, of righteousness, of civilization.

His fans view him as an angel, a beacon of light and direction.

But he’s only human.

He’s a human who curses when he stubs his toe but also apologizes to the kitchen counter.

“You alright?” Yibo calls reflexively.

“Yeah, almost done. Five minutes!”

Yibo clears the table and minutes later, a steaming bowl of noodles is placed before him.

“Still noodles but should be healthier than your ramen,” Xiao Zhan says, sitting down across from him.

“Where’s yours?”

“I ate already.”

He pushes the bowl over. “Eat.”

“It’s too sour.”

Yibo wishes he can go into the kitchen and whip something up for Xiao Zhan, but that’s unrealistic, so he slurps the vinegar noodles while Xiao Zhan just sits there. Yibo peaks up from above the bowl’s rim. It still feels surreal.

“What’ve you been doing these days?” he asks, setting the bowl down.

“Sleep.”

“Still your go-to?” The rest of that question goes unspoken.

“It was good advice.” Xiao Zhan lays his head down on the table as if he wants to fall asleep right this moment. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Yibo mumbles.

He doesn’t get an answer.

Yibo rises to wash the dishes as always. When he gets back to the living area, Xiao Zhan is still a lump on the table.

“You…wanna watch a movie?” he asks.

The lump moves slightly.

Yibo hesitates, but he walks over and scoops up the lump with practiced ease.

“Wang Yibo!” Xiao Zhan squawks. “What are you—"

“I wanna watch a movie.” Yibo settles down on the sofa and places Xiao Zhan beside him. He turns on the TV and presses random buttons, aimlessly going through the options.

Xiao Zhan shakes his head and leans back.

Yibo leaves the TV on an old Spongebob episode. It feels like before—like nothing has happened—but he aches to say something. He turns toward Xiao Zhan.

“Ge,” he starts carefully, putting a hand on Xiao Zhan’s leg. “What exactly…happened?”

Xiao Zhan doesn’t answer. He stares up at the ceiling, but it’s like he’s baring his neck to the guillotine. Finally, “I don’t know.”

And then, “I think I messed up.”

Yibo pulls Xiao Zhan to sit up straight and stares at him. “How the fuck is it your fault?”

“I…” Xiao Zhan looks somewhere past Yibo’s shoulder.

Something stabs Yibo. He’s not sure what exactly, because everything is hurting. He pulls Xiao Zhan into his arms and the man doesn’t struggle this time. He just lays there, cheek in the crook of Yibo’s neck.

“My manager hired two PR teams.” His voice comes out muffled, but it still makes Yibo’s blood run cold.

‘Black’ PR teams are an open secret in the industry. They stir up shit and get paid according to what spot on the trending list they can reach. They’re for the people who believe all news is good news, all publicity is good publicity.

Of course, the only people who believe that are the managers. They’re not the ones taking the brunt of the insults, humiliation and defamation.

Just like how they’re not the ones doing monkey tricks on variety shows to line someone else's pockets, not the ones whose every move and expression is scrutinized, not the ones stalked and harassed and mobbed.

Xiao Zhan continues wryly, “But then they lost control. I guess they underestimated how angry people are.”

“No,” Yibo manages to say. “They underestimated how other people will jump at this chance to get you out of their way.”

“Three hundred million from you, hm?”

Yibo nudges him. “Stop trying to change the subject. ‘S okay to not be so positive all the time.”

“I…” Hot air tickles Yibo as Xiao Zhan sighs softly. “I didn’t say anything because I thought it would just _end_. Like most things. And I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t do anything. I just woke up one day and it happened. What was I supposed to say?

“But now, I don’t think anything I say will matter. It’s too late. They don’t want answers. They don’t want to stop.

“And I know I should take responsibility for my fans. They do charity and other good things in my name and I accept all the certificates that get sent to me. So if they do bad things in my name, I should take those too, right? But how do I manage them? They won’t listen to me. They really don’t. I really don’t know what to do.

“I’m tired.”

“Then sleep,” Yibo replies simply.

Only the TV is still playing, filling the room with soft cheerful noises, but he can feel the erratic heartbeat and breathing against him. He lowers his head to press a kiss to Xiao Zhan’s temple.

“Should I apologize?”

“No!” Yibo says, harsher than he wanted to. “You never did anything wrong.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Xiao Zhan sinks deeper into the embrace. “I remember a line from Wei Wuxian. 'Insults and praises are from others, but what’s right and wrong depends on yourself.' I know I always said that I want to be like him, but I can't. It's impossible to live like him and I won't get a second try like him either. What’s right or wrong doesn’t matter. People only care about your reputation and mine is ruined.”

“It’s not." Yibo’s hand wanders toward Xiao Zhan’s face and ends up toying with his earlobe. What he wants to say is, _As long as one person still believes in you, you’re not ruined._

“Xiao Zhan,” Yibo mumbles. “Don’t ever make me leave again. Don’t leave me again. I don’t like it.”

It sounds awfully childish, but everything he wants to say just comes down these simple words.

Xiao Zhan laughs—the kind where it’s just hot air coming out of his nose. “Okay. But if you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

“I won’t,” Yibo promises. “If there’s only one person still with you in the end, that’s gonna be me.”

Xiao Zhan hums.

It doesn’t sound like he believes Yibo. Because even though Xiao Zhan is able to befriend anyone, is able to put himself out there and treat everyone genuinely, he still feels distant at times.

It’s a defensive mechanism, maybe. He gives his all to everyone, save for the part that he keeps hidden away in fear of getting hurt, but when he loves, he loves in full.

Yibo doesn’t know what the future holds either, but he has to believe in himself, in him, in both of them.

It’s the least he can do.

_If I can’t stop the rain, then at least let me hold up an umbrella for you._

"Hey, Zhan-ge." Yibo pokes the man.

"Hm?"

"Can we go buy groceries tomorrow?"

Sighing, Xiao Zhan reaches over him to get his phone and tosses it into his lap. "First, tell the community counsel that your quarantine is over so they don't call the cops when you try to leave the building."

_If I can't protect you from the rain, then at least let me face the downpour with you._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to the prompter! i've been wanting to write about 227 fiasco and writing this kind of...hurt
> 
> not sure if this is the fic that you wanted (it didn't turn out how i'd imagined either) but i hope you liked it
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/fefedove)


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